


I'm Not a Lonely Stan

by Sock_Lobster



Series: It's a Stan-derful Life [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Road Trips, fic coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 04:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10268570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sock_Lobster/pseuds/Sock_Lobster
Summary: Idaho's not an auspicious place to start anything, so Stan and Ford first pull over not that far outside of Gravity Falls.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know if I'd call this a porn epilogue as promised. It's as long as a chapter and the porn is more emotional wallowing than anything? Do you like emotional wallowing?
> 
> Warnings: Idaho, passing mentions of Utah, Wyoming. Technically this is titled with a song lyric, so lower expectations accordingly.

When Stan was seventeen, he lost his virginity in the backseat of his car. It was magical because it was sex and he was having it finally, but it was also short-lived. Stan had heard of this problem from older guys talking in the locker room, and he’d thought that jerking off would be good practice. All he had to do was get good at lasting with his own hand and boom. No problems lasting when it came to the real deal.

Yeah, that didn’t work out. Stan lasted maybe half the length of the 50s song that was playing on the radio at the time. _Why do fools fall in_ \-- Oops. Sorry, Carla.

That was a long time ago, though. Stan’s a full-grown man who’s had his share of sex. He’s not some goofy teenager who’s gonna come before the second chorus and embarrass himself.

Problem is, Ford’s doing a damn good job of trying to embarrass him anyway. Stan doesn’t know when, but at some point in some life, Ford learned how to give head like a champ. He can deepthroat, which is equally unfair and amazing. Stan can’t remember the last time anything felt this good. 

He has one hand running through Ford’s hair and the other keeping his own head from cracking into or possibly through the backseat window. Stan makes himself focus on the feeling of the digging his foot between the seat cushion and the backrest, on his own muscles straining to move and hold still at the same time.

Ford sucks his cock like it’s a sport, though. Well, like it’s a sport that Ford, who’s never been one for sports, is mysteriously good at. 

“You could definitely win a championship ring for this,” Stan says as Ford slides up and back down.

Lips still stretched wide, Ford pauses and gives Stan a look that, okay, Stan deserves. That he can do it with a cock in his mouth is also impressive. How does one practice looking annoyed while giving head, exactly?

“You’re good at this, I’m saying,” Stan says. “Good enough to win a comp--” Ford reaches up and shuts Stan’s mouth with his hand. Stan’s teeth click with it, and fine, he deserves that too. Stan covers Ford’s hand with his own and moans into Ford’s palm. Time to give up on being Mr. Cool here. That ship sailed.

Not at all long after that, Stan comes down Ford’s throat. Ford also swallows like a champ but Stan is both smart enough to not say that and also not able to anyway because he’s still panting into Ford’s palm. Ford slides back up and kisses Stan’s neck gently until he comes back to the land of the living.

Stan eventually manages to pull their hands away from his mouth say, “So, thanks?”

Ford laughs. He kisses Stan’s cheek. “You don’t say thanks for sex, Stanley,” he says, voice low and raw. His voice is low and raw because he’s just sucked Stan off. It’s almost too much to think about without having a heart attack or something.

Stan says, “I wish we were younger.”

“What?”

“I should have time wished for us to be younger. Way more sex.”

“Maybe we’ll find the fountain of youth somewhere,” Ford says, and Stan turns his head to kiss him. He tastes like come, and Stan groans.

“Where’s that supposed to be anyway?” Stan says after long wet kisses that make his mouth sore.

Ford says, “What?”

“Fountain of youth. Think we can get there by boat?”

Ford laughs into Stan’s shoulder and says, “We’d have to, if it’s in the Caribbean like legend says. However, I mean it about needing to go check out what’s happening in the arctic, Stanley.”

“Yeah, yeah, but I’m talking after that, whatever it is.”

“We can talk about it then,” Ford says. He turns the hand Stan’s still holding around and grabs Stan’s wrist. He pulls until he can press Stan’s hand against his crotch, where he’s hard beneath his pants. Stan squeezes him through the fabric, and Ford groans against his neck.

Stan says, “You’re too hot to be my nerdy twin. When did that happen?”

Ford doesn’t dignify that with an answer or whatever. Instead, he undoes his own fly and pushes Stan’s hand into his underwear. Stan wraps his fingers tightly around Ford’s cock and strokes him.

“No, no, wait,” Ford says uncomfortably. He pulls Stan’s hand off his cock to bring it to his mouth and lick the palm. It messes with Stan’s head.

He has memories of doing this with another man that aren’t really real. This doesn’t feel real either, but in a good way. Like Stan’s living a fantasy where Ford both wants him and wants him. 

Ford kisses him when he wraps Stan’s fingers back around his cock, so yeah, definitely living a dream here. How many guys get to give their brothers handjobs in cars at Oregon rest stops? 

 

By the time they’re crossing the border to Idaho a couple hours later, Stan’s already ready to call it a night. Sex at a rest stop wears a guy out it turns out, especially if he’s already had something of a hell of a week. Ford means it about getting to the arctic, though, so now there’s a damn timetable to meet, and the damn timetable doesn’t have them stopping for another four hours.

At least Stan driving means that it’s Ford stuck on communications duty.

“Okay,” Ford says, tiredly. It’s about the twentieth time he’s said it; he’s beginning to sound browbeaten. Stan finds that really satisfying. “Yes, Mabel. We’ll be fine. I spent thirty years traveling between dimensions, and Stanley’s already been to every state in the union,” Ford says. He pauses, and then huffs. “We’re not _that_ old.”

“They calling us old?”

“They’re calling us old,” Ford says.

“Don’t call your grunkles old!” Stan yells over at Ford’s side of the front seat. Ford covers the ear closest to Stan and glares at him.

“Mabel says she’s not calling us old, just retro,” he says after pausing to listen to the other end of the line. “Dipper says vintage. These are just synonyms for old, you two realize.”

“Put them on speaker,” Stan says. “I need to yell at them more.”

Ford’s quiet for a moment too long, and Stan looks over to see him frowning at the new cell phone for Ford they picked up in town before leaving. At the time it seemed like a good idea to have, and Soos had cried until they’d agreed and promised to call constantly, but Stan’s already feeling like it’s more trouble than it’s worth. It’s smarter than both of them possibly, and Ford’s got a weird relationship with it already.

“Money says it’s the one that looks like a speaker,” Stan says. Money also says the phone gets taken apart before Nebraska and rebuilt with lasers and Ford’s own stupid codes instead of normal texts.

“...It looks like a sideways lamp. That’s not at all intuitive,” Ford says, and he pokes at the phone. Suddenly the kids’ voices fill the car.

“--think he knows how to work it?” Mabel’s saying.

“You’re on speaker now,” Stan says.

“Okay,” Dipper says. “Whew.”

“Stop calling us old,” Stan says. “We’re fine. I punched a pterodactyl. I can handle a road trip.”

“We’re not saying you can’t, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper says. “But--”

“Why is everyone so worried about us?” Stan ask, putting his hands up in exasperation only for Ford to reach over and push Stan’s nearest hand back onto the wheel. “We’re grown men!”

“Well, yes, but…” Dipper says.

Mabel says, “We don’t trust you two to get along. We want to know you aren’t killing each other in Texas or something.”

“We’re not going to Texas,” Stan says. “I _know_ they still have a warrant and will definitely use force.” In his defense, the cow had it coming.

“Texas isn’t the point, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper says.

“I am considering finding a route to the Gulf of Mexico rather than going all the way to the east coast, though the boat trip will be longer,” Ford says. “We can skip around Texas.”

Mabel and Dipper go weirdly quiet. Stan feels suspicious. “What?” he asks.

“Well, I dunno...” Mabel says.

“I mean,” Dipper says. “You know who’s on the east coast, right?”

Stan stares at the road ahead. When he figures out what they mean, he groans. “Kids, why you gotta do this to me?”

Beside him, Ford says, “What? Who’s on the east coast.”

“Shermie,” Stan says as Mabel says, “Our grandpa!”

“Oh. Right,” Ford says. Stan can’t read that tone at all.

“I mean, you guys are already on a road trip of brotherly love, right?” Mabel says.

Stan snorts; Ford laughs in a short, high-pitched burst. They share a brief uncomfortable look.

“Kids, do _you_ even talk to Shermie?” Stan asks.

“Well,” Dipper says.

“About three times a year,” Mabel says. “It’s pretty sad.”

“Exactly,” Stan says.

Only then Mabel says, “Exactly! That’s our point!”

“Yeah, you guys got over your differences. Mostly,” Dipper says. “Maybe you should stop by and say ‘Hi’ and everyone can feel better or something.”

“I don’t have any _differences_ with the man,” Stan says. “We were just never close to begin with. Ford and I were both gone by the time you could have a conversation with him. Your dad’s the one with issues.”

“Well, yeah, but--”

“But if you guys reconnect with him, then it’s going to look bad if Dad doesn’t try, too,” Mabel says.

“You want us to drive all the way to New Jersey just to guilt trip your dad?” Stan asks.

“Well, that and get to know your little brother better,” Dipper says. “You’re already driving across the country anyway.”

“Kids, this isn’t just a road trip for fun,” Ford says. “We do need to get on a boat and investigate those anomalies I detected. This could be something world-threatening.”

“The number one thing I learned this summer is that not talking to your family _is_ world-threatening. Are you really going to avoid your _baby brother_?” Mabel asks. She’s probably doing the puppy eyes.

“For crying out loud, kids,” Stan groans, throwing his hands up again. “Why can’t you just let a man avoid things like a man?”

“At least one hand on the wheel please, Stanley,” Ford says.

“I can drive with my knee and be exasperated at the same time,” Stan says, though now the kids are both yelling at him from the phone. He puts his hands back. “Alright, alright, hands at ten and two, yeesh!”

“See, this? This is why we worry about you, Old Man.”

“You know I’m not even technically the oldest one in this car, right?” Stan says petulantly. Ford reaches over and flicks him on the nose. Stan bats him away with one hand but keeps the other on the wheel. 

“I have done this before, kids,” Stan says. “Give it a rest. I’ve seen more highway than just about anyone.”

“But you don’t remember all of it very well,” Mabel says.

“And we spent the summer in the same car as you,” Dipper says. “We know how you drive.”

“If we have to go dig your bodies up from a grave in Missouri or somewhere stupid, we will,” Mabel says. “But it’s easier if you just don’t die in a car wreck.”

Ford makes a strangled noise. He says, “You’ve been been spending too much time with Stanley. If we die, tragic as that may be, please don’t dig us up to fix it.”

“Sorry, no, you don’t get a say in this,” Mabel says. “Though we will try time travel first because it’s less zombie-y.”

“Love ya, too, kids,” Stan says while Ford says, “ _Far_ too much time with Stanley.”

For that, Stan takes both hands off the wheel to make a stupid face with antlers at Ford. Ford snaps at him again, which means the kids start griping again, which means the kids are pretty nicely distracted from the Shermie talk. That the car swerves is a small price to pay.

 

Okay, fine, Stan _is_ old. He officially gets senior citizen discounts without even having to lie about it. When he was younger, he lied by a couple years to save a couple bucks, but now that he’s actually old enough, he resents it. It just makes him feel like a relic.

Ford doesn’t seem bothered, though. He shows the lady at the front desk of the hotel his ID, and she gives them the discount.

“I mean, I’m not saying I haven’t been worse places than Idaho,” Stan says in the hallways. “And I’ve been in worse places _in_ Idaho--”

“Glad to see you remember your Idahoian misadventures,” Ford says.

“--but I don’t think I’ve been more _boring_ places than Idaho. I still say we can keep driving and make it to at least Utah.”

“At night, when your night vision is terrible, you’re wearing glasses I doubt you’ve had updated in years--”

“Do you have any idea how expensive optometrists are? Especially when they have you blacklisted for stealing frames once?”

“--and we could be having sex in a real bed rather than the backseat of your car?” Ford continues. He says it plainly, right in the middle of the hallway where anyone could hear. Stan looks around to check, and fine, there’s no one to hear, but still.

“Hey, say that a little louder next time. I don’t think everyone heard you.” Stan says. “Have you ever been chased out of town by a mob, by the way? Just asking.”

“Yes, I have actually, but it’s not as if the girl at the front desk cared.”

“Did you say something to her?” Stan doesn’t remember hearing anything like, “Oh yeah, I’m planning to screw my twin brother in your fine establishment. Is there a discount rate for that?”

Ford stops outside a room numbered 146 and looks at the little pamphlet of papers he got with checking in. From it, he pulls out a keycard and examines it and the electronic lock on the door.

“Oh, nice to see these in wide use, I suppose.”

“ _Did_ you say something to her?” Stan asks again. Ford’s still not back down to earth about things like social norms, and he just might never be. Stan’s fine with that.

Ford reads the instructions on the card and unlocks the door on the first try. As he opens it, he says, “No. You were there, but I did ask for a single, and I assume she’s capable of inferring.”

Stan follows him into the room and gets a look at the lone queen-sized bed. He didn’t think anything about it when Ford got the room, but that definitely implies things. 

Stan says, “Huh.”

“Is that a problem?” Ford asks.

“Not remotely,” Stan says. He dumps his travel bag on the floor just in time to be caught by the back of the neck and pulled into a kiss. Ford’s good with the kissing.

“Okay, so, you definitely weren’t getting any with anybody in high school,” Stan says when Ford moves on to his neck. “Did this happen in college or am I competing with aliens here?”

“If you’re asking if I had sex in college, yes,” Ford says. He tugs Stan’s coat off his shoulders and gets his fingers under the hem of the t-shirt Stan put on when he left the suit behind for Soos. “If you’re asking if I had sex while I was traveling different worlds for thirty years, yes. I’m hardly a virgin.”

“I mean, I figured you’d gotten up to _something._ If nothing else, other you and me had sex once, and you get to remember that--”

“I’d rather not, all things considered. It was a mess of self-loathing,” Ford says. He gets Stan’s shirt up and off him. The shirt collar pushes Stan’s glasses off his face and onto the top of his head, so Stan just reaches up and drops them on top of his abandoned coat.

He says, “That sucks.”

“We’re already doing better, Stanley,” Ford says. He runs his hands from Stan’s shoulders down, and Stan takes half a second to worry that Ford’s going to really get a good look at him here with his belly and his damn manboobs and decide he’s not interested. It’s a fleeting thought, though; Ford rubbing over Stan’s nipples with his knuckles does a good job of telling self-doubt to fuck off.

“So, bed?” Stan says thickly.

“Bed,” Ford agrees. He actually takes his coat off and puts it carefully on a hook by the bathroom. Stan’s left to undo his own pants and shove them and his underwear down. His shoes get left in the tangle of his pants, and he pushes the hideous comforter off the bed.

When he sits down, Ford comes back to him, still wearing his dumb sweater and his pants. He leans down and kisses Stan before Stan has the opportunity to object to that. It’s fine. Stan’s capable of getting Ford’s fly undone himself before Ford pushes him back and down onto the mattress. He gets one of his knees on the mattress between Stan’s legs and the other beside Stan’s hip and then lies on top of him make out some more.

Stan likes that. The sweater rubs against his skin in ways that Stan doesn’t hate. He can cope with the sweater if he has to. 

He can cope with a lot when Ford simultaneously gets a hand between their chests to rub one of Stan’s nipples and pushes the knee between Stan’s legs upwards. Stan grinds up against him and groans.

Ford’s mouth skates off his and across his cheek until he gets to Stan’s ear, which he licks. His knee rubs against Stan’s cock in a steady rhythm, the pants fabric rough but in a really good way. Stan slides his hands up the back of Ford’s sweater and down the back of Ford’s pants. Both places, he meets more fabric, an undershirt and Ford’s underwear, so he starts back at the hems again and finally gets down to skin. He squeezes Ford’s ass. Ford bites his ear.

“Fuck,” Stan says. “Get naked already, would you?”

Ford pulls away and kneels precariously over Stan. He gives Stan a look like, “I’m humoring you,” before pulling his sweater off. The plain undershirt follows.

Stan’s seen Ford naked since the portal. Once, and it’s actually one of the clearest memories Stan has because it happened after the mindwipe. Ford undressed him in the woods and switched their clothes back, and Stan didn’t know who the heck he was or why they were switching clothes at the time. Ford was so damn gentle then, though. Stan likes the memory, even though Ford was sad at the time.

In the present, Ford stands up long enough to shuck his own pants, and Stan doesn’t get as much a look at him as he’d like before Ford lies back down on top of him. Then it’s all skin and warmth and muscles Stan still can’t believe Ford has now. Stan crushes them as close together as he can and squirms a little just to feel their skin rubbing. 

Their legs are dangling too far off the end of the bed, though. One of Ford’s knees goes off the edge of the mattress, and his hip crashes a little too hard right into Stan’s dick. It’s not hot.

“Fuck, ow,” Stan says. “Careful with the merchandise.”

“Sorry,” Ford says. “Scoot up towards the headboard.”

Stan sighs and heaves himself further up the mattress so that only his ankles and feet are still off the edge. He moves up, but Ford doesn’t. Ford moves down.

“Gonna kiss it better?” Stan asks.

“The thought had occurred to me. I should at least check you’re not hurt,” Ford says in very reasonable tones, like he’s a medical doctor or something.

...That’s probably a thought for another day. Stan’s going to have to remember it. Given the way Ford carefully touches Stan’s cock and tilts it side to side, up and down like an examination, he probably wouldn’t object.

“Everything look good, doc?” Stan asks dryly.

“I’d say so,” Ford says, and he does softly kiss the head of Stan’s dick like an apology. Stan laughs breathlessly and tilts back into the mattress as Ford takes him into his mouth.

It’s hot and wet, but so’s most sex. There’s nothing remarkable about that. Stan could get his own hand hot and wet and it wouldn’t be as good as sex. The super awesome thing here is that it’s Ford’s mouth on him for the second time today. It’s been about six hours since the rest stop, and Stan’s also pretty awed that they’re getting another round in. His sixties haven’t been that kind to his sex drive, but apparently his dick’s willing to make an effort for this.

In return, Ford sucks and kisses him with aching gentleness. Stan moans; his hands makes fists in the sheets. Hot and wet isn’t remarkable, but it still feels real fucking good. Ford bobs his head up and down, rubs Stan’s balls and the insides of Stan’s spread thighs. He pinches the soft skin where thigh meets pelvis, and Stan jerks. He gasps while he’s at it.

It hurts, but it’s not a bad hurt. Ford does it again lower down while sucking harder on Stan’s cock, and Stan chokes out a moan. Ford takes that a permission to stop being so gentle and just generally start being an asshole, because now there’s fingernails biting into Stan’s hip, dragging down his legs. Ford scratches down the inside of Stan’s thighs and pulls off his cock to suck hard on Stan’s balls. He frees up one hand and uses it to stoke him fast and hard until Stan yells and comes on his own stomach. 

Ford keeps the minor injuries and the way too hard suction going until Stan’s done and gaping up at the hotel ceiling.

“Ow,” Stan says when he has the breath.

Ford kisses his hip innocently and says, “Bad ow?”

“I’m going to have to get back to you on that.” Stan swallows and closes his eyes. “Probably an okay ow.”

“Good,” Ford says. He reaches up and runs his fingers through the hair and the come on Stan’s stomach. Stan shudders.

“You got any sex weirdness going on I should know about?” Stan asks when Ford kisses him below the belly button.

“That depends on your definition of weirdness, Stanley,” Ford says reproachfully.

“I mean, you’d give me a heads up if you’re going to break out whips and daggers and, I don’t know, rubber chickens or something, right?”

Ford pauses in his slow journey upwards to laugh into Stan’s chest. “What would I do with rubber chickens, Stanley?”

“I don’t know, and I wouldn’t want to know. This is why I’m asking now,” Stan says. He fights down a yawn as his body tries to drag him off towards sleep. He’s had a total of two orgasms and seven hours of driving today. Ford’s going to have to hurry up if he wants Stan awake for whatever he’s got in mind.

Stan pets Ford’s head and says, “Hey, what do you want me to do for you?”

Ford props his chin on Stan’s chest and says, “What’re you comfortable doing?”

“Try me,” Stan says to cover for not totally knowing what he is comfortable with. It’s a decent bluff tactic that’s served him well in the past.

“Alright,” Ford says. He darts forward and kisses Stan quickly on the mouth before sitting up. He puts his hands on the headboard above Stan and straddles his chest. Ford’s very hard cock is suddenly Stan’s whole field of vision.

It looks like a nice cock. Stan’s never actually seen his own from this angle, but they look about the same. Ford’s seems a little more curved up than Stan’s at most.

“Tell me what to do,” Stan says. He’s aware of Ford’s ass and balls brushing against his chest, and Ford’s hips are making little circles in the air. Stan reaches up and puts his hands on Ford’s thighs, rubs his thumbs over the hair there.

“You had a live-in ...partner,” Ford says awkwardly. It’s better than “man friend” at least. For someone who knows how to suck cock, he is consistently weird about Manny. Stan’s kinda beginning to find some humor in that.

“Memories are fuzzy, and like you said, they’re not really mine,” Stan says. It’s about half true. He does have an idea or two what’s going to happen here, but he’s never actually done it himself. “Call me a student.”

“I never slept with any students younger than me,” Ford says.

“Oh, well, that’s a huge relief. I can scratch that off the ‘possible crazy sexual misadventures Ford had without me’ list. You never answered about aliens, though,” Stan says.

“That doesn’t seem relevant,” Ford says, still not answering. He reaches down with one hand to take hold of his cock behind the head. It’s leaking and shiny, and as far as distractions go, it’s an impressive one. “Do you think I can put this in your mouth?”

Stan gulps and nods. “I think you could do that, yeah.” 

Ford carefully brings himself close to Stan’s lips. He doesn’t push that last inch forward, though; Stan has to tilt his own head up to finally put his mouth against his brother’s cock.

Stan parts his lips and lick the tip. That doesn’t kill him, so he tries a little more, lets the head come into his mouth and push against his tongue. He hasn’t ever really thought about how wide his mouth would have to go in a blowjob scenario before now, but it’s not that bad.

Above him, Ford exhales shakily and lets go of the headboard entirely to fist his other hand in Stan’s hair. He pulls a little, and Stan moves his own hands to take hold of Ford’s hips. He doesn’t think Ford’s going to start fucking his face out of nowhere, but it makes Stan feel a little more confident.

When Stan tries sucking on the head, his lips brush against the fingers of Ford’s other hand. He’s jerking himself off slowly where Stan isn’t reaching. Stan closes his eyes and sucks in a rhythm. It’s nothing fancy, but Ford likes it. He tells Stan so.

“Like that, yes,” he says. He pauses in stroking himself to rub his thumb wetley around Stan’s lips. “You’re doing great, Stanley.” He slides his hand over Stan’s cheek and keeps it there, like he wants to feel Stan’s cheek hollow with each suck. “That’s good.”

Stan’s eyes water. It’s just from having his mouth open like this for so long, though. He thinks he can do a little more, so he keeps hold of both of Ford’s hips, relaxes his jaw, and gently urges Ford forward.

Ford doesn’t need to be told twice. With his hands on Stan’s head, he begins slowly and shallowly thrusting. He fucks Stan’s mouth like Stan is fragile. Stan didn’t think this could be sweet, but somehow it is.

Stan holds still and lets his mouth be used until Ford pulls out and finishes himself off with his hand. He holds Stan’s head in place by the hair and comes on Stan’s neck with a moan Stan wants tattooed on his brain or something so nothing can erase it.

Stan strokes his thighs and waits for him to still before saying, “Aw, you didn’t have to get me a necklace.”

Ford sits on Stan’s chest and flicks him in the ear. Stan guesses he should be glad Ford doesn’t use his cock to do it.

“Off. You’re heavy,” Stan says. He feels like a piece of furniture.

Ford slides off him to the side and sits against the headboard. He pats Stan on the head and says, “Your pillow talk is exceptional so far. First it was old age and now it’s weight.”

“I am a man of romance,” Stan says. He should get up and clean up but that’s not happening. He closes his eyes instead and stays flopped out on the bed like a beached whale. It’s a good feeling, even with the come drying over his stomach and neck and minor scratches still stinging. His jaw isn’t entirely happy either, but it can fuck off. That was nice.

Ford lets him be for a while, staying beside him with his hand on his head before getting off the bed. Stan hears him in the bathroom, washing up and actually using the toilet. He brushes his teeth and only then does he come back in the bedroom. There’s soft fabric sounds.

Stan opens his eyes to Ford doing the fly in his pants back up. He’s left the coat off but he’s back in the sweater and pants get-up. He does sleep in it, fine. Stan rolls his eyes and closes them again.

“You’ll regret it if you don’t clean up, Stanley.”

“Get me a wash cloth, then. I am not moving from here until tomorrow morning.”

Ford sighs like Stanley’s this massive, unreasonable burden he’s doomed to bear, but he also goes back to the bathroom, runs water, and comes back with a wet washcloth that he drops on Stan’s stomach. It’s too wet and freezing cold. Stan should have expected that.

“Gee, thanks, sweetheart,” he says. He lazily wipes down and opens his eyes long enough to throw the washcloth towards the bathroom. Then he gets himself under the sheets and calls it a night.

Ford lies down next to him in the bed, his shoulder against Stan’s. “You should take your teeth out.”

Stan sighs. “Not moving.”

“That’s not healthy.”

“Not. Moving. Bug me about it in the morning.”

“Fine, I will,” Ford says, and then he does fall quiet. Stan’s ready to call that a win. He rolls over, puts his arm across Ford’s stomach, and falls asleep.

 

In the morning, Ford wakes him up too fucking early to show him a text from Mabel. Stan squints at the screen and sees a colorfully drawn picture of a baby crying giant tears like waterfalls. Below, it says, “ALL ALONE.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Stan says. “That’s just lazy.”

“The glitter works against it,” Ford agrees, then he basically hauls Stan up by the ear to the bathroom and makes him take care of his teeth. It puts Stan in a mood that lasts through the continental breakfast and the first thirty miles of road, but by the time they cross the border into Utah, he’s well over it.

Ford spends most of the day chatting about local history he’s read, random asides from his travels through the portals, notes about the route. Stan cuts in every now and then with the multiple reasons he’s not really supposed to be in Utah.

They eat lunch from a fast food joint, and Ford reads out a text from Dipper that says absolutely nothing about Shermie. It just goes on about how happy he is to be starting the school year with his sister and how he’s really glad Stan and Ford are traveling together.

Stan sips his root beer float and says, “That’s just insulting. I could have sworn they were better at guilt tripping than this.”

“You seem more offended by their method than their point,” Ford says.

Stan shrugs. “They already know I’m probably going to cave for them eventually. They could at least be less smug about it.”

Ford sighs. “If you’re planning on caving, tell me before Illinois,” he says.

“You should just plot out the damn trip to end in Jersey,” Stan says with a sigh. “But we’re not telling the kids that yet. They don’t get that satisfaction until they step up their game.”

 

When they stop for the night it’s in Wyoming, up in hills Stan doesn’t find horribly ugly, and the elevation is high enough to make the night chilly. Stan and Ford sit out on the hood and eat food they picked up at a gas station. The air’s not so cool they can’t bear it with their coats on, and they each have a beer.

There’s semis idling all around and a couple other cars parked with their windows blocked by blankets. Someone’s got a kid who’s being a brat about the toilet and yelling across the parking lot, but Stan couldn’t care less. They’re at the far edge of the rest stop, and no one’s looking for them in the dark. He finds Ford’s hand on the hood between them and covers it with his own.

“Thank you,” he says.

“For what?”

“Asking me to come with you. This isn’t half bad.”

Ford looks over at him with a befuddled expression.

“What?” Stan says. “I can be nice.”

“I know, but I don’t see why you’re nice about this,” Ford says. “I wanted you to come. It wasn’t a favor, Stanley.”

Stan doesn’t say, “Hey, you wanting me around after all this time feels like a favor.” Instead he says, “Glad to be here, anyway.”

Ford looks out at the landscape in the moonlight. He’s quiet for so long that Stan thinks the conversation’s been allowed to die an easy death, but then he does talk. He says, “Stanley, I do want you here with me, and if you can believe it, know that that’s not a new feeling inspired by last week either.”

“Bullshit,” Stan says.

That earns him a sigh and a shrug. “You don’t have to believe that part. At least believe that I do want you here _now._ ”

Stan looks down at their hands and back up to the side of Ford’s face. He’s still looking out at the landscape rather than at Stan directly. Stan never could read Ford’s mind.

Stan says, “Okay. I take back the ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Ford turns his hand under Stan’s and laces their fingers together. Stan squeezes his hand in return, keeps holding on until Ford yawns and says they should sleep. They lie down in different seats in the car, and Ford tells him about a world where the ground itself reset every few days and people lived their whole lives in temporary cities. As long as the people stayed the same, Stan thinks he could live a good life like that.

 

Stan wakes up in the early morning to Ford muttering over pieces of the phone with a tiny screwdriver in his hand, which at least means he’s too distracted to make Stan get up and drive yet. Stan shifts around in his seat and goes back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
